


Heroism Gets You Killed

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, all I can promise is a happy ending, are you ready for the angst, but he always comes back, but there's gonna be a shit-ton of angst in the meantime, he misinterprets a lot of things, lance being a complete and utter badass, lance does end up in a healing pod a lot, lance is an anxious bean, several explosions, there is an alien oc that i am quite proud of, there is some cute gay fluff though, there will be some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: Five times Lance McClain recklessly risked his life to prove his worth to his teammates, and one time they showed him he had nothing to prove.





	Heroism Gets You Killed

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY HERE WE GO, THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR  
> this is, in fact, the major project i was procrastinating while writing the partiallydeaf!Keith au (there will be more coming, worry not)   
> a HUGE thank-you to my wonderful beta, @Cass_Logan, for all her motivation and inspiration and everything and i just love her so much you guys i never would've finished without her.  
> please enjoy, and let me know if you did!

** 1: Hunk  **

 

Lance has always been the fifth wheel of the paladins. He recognizes this, on some level, knows that the other four connect seamlessly together in a way he never will. He sees how Hunk and Pidge just _click_ in terms of technology, how Shiro and Pidge bond over the shared pain of Commander and Matthew Holt's disappearances. He knows Shiro and Keith have some kind of intense connection from before Shiro's disappearance, sees how they can communicate with a single glance. He knows that he isn't really a part of this group.

 

But he puts on a brave face – the face of comedy. He cracks jokes, he does stupid things, he makes them laugh or groan or smack him or acknowledge his presence in some way, however small. He keeps his fears and doubts hidden from all of them, reserved for when he knows he's alone. He just focuses on keeping the rest of the team alive, because they're the important ones.

 

Blue doesn't agree with him. Whenever he spirals into that train of thought when he's piloting, she pulls him sharply back into focus with a soft snarl. So he keeps the thoughts away from her as well; there's no need to burden her unnecessarily. He pulls everything in, wraps it in comedy, and tries to protect his team as best he can.

 

They don't make it easy. Keith, for instance, is absolutely fucking _terrible_ at not getting into dangerous situations, but the Red Lion seems to have him pretty well in hand. Lance usually puts his worry for Keith on the backburner (as well as his affection because _holy shit_ Keith does not need to know about that ever) and focuses on the other members.

 

They're on a planet where everything is hard, barren rock, a planet where only the most resilient creatures thrive, and they're fighting for their lives. Pidge and Hunk are on the ground, furiously attempting to repair an alien evacuation ship that's been overrun with Galra. Shiro and Keith are tag-teaming in the upper atmosphere, blasting fighters away from them and protecting the castle, and Lance is guarding the door while his friends work.

 

He watches Keith barrel roll beautifully through a minefield of enemy craft, sees Shiro slash a ship to shreds with his jaw blade, gazes as they wrap around each other in a deadly spiral of black and red. The comms system is on, but neither of them is using it; they don't have to. They will always be like this, Lance thinks, like one mind with two bodies, like one person piloting two lions.

 

He hears footsteps then, lots of them, and he snaps abruptly back to the corridor in front of him swarming with Galra sentries. A quick glance at Hunk and Pidge shows that they're nowhere near done; he has to hold them off long enough for the useful members of his team to be useful. He can bitch later – right now, he has people to keep alive.

 

Lance's fingers flex around the blaster as he lifts it to his face, looking down the barrel to line up his shots. Each blast he fires hits a sentry in the head, but the flood remains undiluted. There are more Galra than he can handle, and he really needs backup but he can't bother Shiro or Keith because really, there's nothing they could do anyway, not way up there. And Hunk and Pidge are out of the question.

 

"Just a few more ticks!" Pidge calls, fingers flying across the keyboard as Hunk frantically rewires underneath. "Hold them off, Lance!"

 

"Guys, I –"

 

"This is really important, Lance!" Pidge shrieks. "This information is vital – we can't afford to lose it!" Lance picks up on the subtext in their words.

 

_We_ can _afford to lose you_.

 

So he flings himself into battle, firing shot after shot and tearing through the ranks. When his bayard is thrown from his hand, he simply picks up a detached leg and starts smacking sentries until they all lay in a smoking, sizzling heap at his feet. "That's right!" he shouts. "I just made all you Galra suckers my _BITCH_!"

 

" _Lance, language_!" Shiro scolds in his ear. Keith’s voice buzzes in, too, crackly but still dripping with sarcasm.

 

" _What was that about making me your bitch, Lance_?" he asks, voice dry, but Lance is no longer listening.

 

One of the sentries, in a last-ditch attempt to finish them off, has shakily raised a blaster. Hunk slides out from under the computer bank, grinning triumphantly – he'll get hit square in the forehead, which will most certainly kill him. Lance's bayard is across the room, he can't find a weapon anywhere but he knows that Hunk is much more valuable, their genius engineer and chef, than he is (because really, no one even calls him the team sharpshooter except himself so obviously he can't mean that much, right?) so he does the only thing he can.

 

When the bolt fires, it hits Lance, who's flung himself between the dead-and-dying Galra robot and his horrified friend. They crash to the ground together, Lance's head snapping back and striking the floor, and he can feel a slight burn, hear a faint sizzle, but beyond that there's nothing. He can't bring himself to move, to see if Hunk is alright, but someone is screaming so he must have done something right. He smiles, faintly, and then someone is scooping him up and everything is moving fast – too fast – so he just closes his eyes and blocks it all out.

*~*~*~*~*

Lance wakes up with the hum of a healing pod low in his ears, and the soft swish as the entrance dissolves, and then he's stepping out into the control room. He falls into Hunk's arms, and his friend is so happy he's practically in tears. "Lance!" he sobs. "Oh my god, Lance, Lance, _we thought you were dead you piece of shit –"_

 

It must have been bad, if Hunk is cursing, and Lance is so shocked he forgets to listen until Hunk crushes him in another massive hug. He can see Keith leaning against the doorway, brow furrowed as he stares at the floor. He makes a brief eye contact with Lance, smiles, and nods his head once before turning and walking out. Lance doesn't dwell on it, because Hunk is sobbing into his shoulder and he really needs to deal with that, okay.

 

But he can't shake the lingering warmth that curls into a corner of his heart like a cat (like a giant fuzzy purple space cat, as Pidge has taken to calling the Galra in an attempt to humanize them, to make Keith seem less other and foreign and more paladin, more human) when he remembers that smile, even as he rubs Hunk's back and cracks stupid jokes to stem the flooding flow of tears. Keith was waiting for him – Keith cared enough to wait outside of the healing pod for him. Keith might at least hate him less than he lets on.

 

And that's enough to keep Lance happy for a while.

 

####

 

** 2: Pidge  **

 

"Lance! I need you!"

 

Lance's head snaps up from where he's polishing his bayard (perhaps a bit more vigorously than is strictly necessary) because Pidge never uses the words "Lance" and "need" together. Most of their problems are either mechanical or technological, neither of which are areas Lance is particularly gifted in, so it's usually Hunk being shouted for.

 

Pidge comes running in, careening around a corner so quickly Lance wouldn't be surprised to find skid marks on the floor. They push their glasses up (which have gone wildly askew) and seize Lance's wrist, pulling him down the corridor and into their bedroom. Bright blue and green holoscreens hover at what Lance assumes are strategic points, displaying all kinds of weird charts and graphs and numerical data. Pidge swipes across one screen in partially translated Altean and pulls up a map.

 

"I’ve found it," they say excitedly, pointing to a big yellow star shape. Lance sheaths his bayard and squints at the screen.

 

"Uh-huh," he says. "Right. Of course. Now, just to make sure we're on the same page . . . exactly what is it that you've found, again?" Pidge rolls their eyes and smacks his arm, although it's more half-hearted than usual.

 

"That's where Matt is," they say, fingers reaching for the star as though they can push through the screen and grab Matt, pull him back and hold him tightly and never let him go again. "We have to go get him."

 

"Of course!" Lance says. "We'll go and get the rest of the team, and then –"

 

"No!" Pidge snaps sharply, latching onto Lance's forearm so tightly it hurts. "No, it'll take too long. They're moving him tomorrow, and I can't lose track of him. Not again. Please, Lance, we have to save him tonight. Please, please, please, you're the only paladin I can trust!"

 

Lance knows Pidge has thought this out logically (Hunk is too nervous, Keith too impulsive, Shiro too responsible, Allura and Coran too concerned with the fate of the universe), but it still sends a fiery thrill shooting through him. He absolutely adores the feeling of being needed, because it pushes away the dark shadows, the lingering thoughts, the ever-present _you are nothing they can't replace_ hovering in his mind.

 

"Of course," he says, gently setting a hand on Pidge's shoulder. "Fly me to the moon, space cadet!"

*~*~*~*~*

They sneak out later, thanks to Pidge's ability to use the castle's built-in B.L.I.P. tech to locate the castle's inhabitants. Keith and Shiro are on the training deck, Hunk and Coran are in the kitchen, the princess is sleeping. Lance gently strokes Blue's paw as she lets him inside, and a soft thrum reverberates through his soul as she greets him in return.

 

His helmet buzzes as Pidge's voice crackles into his ear. " _I’ve set up a secure frequency, so the others don't catch on. The coordinates have been sent to Blue already, and with any luck we'll be back before the team needs Voltron._ " Lance privately thinks that while they'll certainly miss Pidge, he won't make much difference at all, but Blue growls low in his head and he shoves the thoughts away.

 

Pidge explains on the way what the prison is: an abnormally large asteroid that got sucked into the orbit of a quintessence-exsanguinated planet and became a barren moon. The Galra have hollowed it out, and it's their job to infiltrate. It should be fairly easy to get in, they explain, as long as they stick to the plan.

 

"Which is?" Lance asks.

_"I’ll need you to distract the Galra,_ " they say. " _You're agile and quick and a good shot, and that's what I need right now. I need the base as empty as possible so I can find Matt, okay?"_

 

Lance's giddy mood falls just a little. Pidge needs him, yes, but for Galra target practice – as a decoy. He shakes his head to clear it, flexing his fingers around Blue's controls. "You got it! I’m the most distracting thing in the universe!" He can practically hear Pidge's affectionately-exasperated eye roll.

 

" _Thanks, Lance_ ," they say quietly. Lance smiles and catches sight of the Galra base. To his right, he sees Pidge apply the green lion's cloaking technology, watches it fizzle out of visibility, and speeds up Blue in response.

 

"You ready for this, girl?" Blue purrs low, a steady hum of agreeing power. Lance feels invincible, seated snugly in Blue with his hands on the controls and his vision sharp and focused. He zooms straight for the base, firing a few well-placed shots and receiving a swarm of Galra fighters for his troubles. He spins through the wreckage, ice and lasers spinning in an alternating pattern of deadly chaos, and as more and more sentries flood out he goes into battle autopilot as his mind whirls.

 

If Pidge needed someone to distract the Galra, why wouldn't they choose Keith, the best pilot of their class? Keith flies like it's what he was born to do, instead of walking. He's swift and decisive like wildfire, analyzing each and every situation seamlessly. Lance isn't that good, as much as he hates to admit it to himself. He's good, but it's because he works his ass off studying and practicing and trying to keep up.

 

Lance weaves his way closer to the prison – _in, out, up, left, ice ice ice laser_ – as he hears a faint " _Matt!"_ before Pidge's comm line cuts out. Why would Pidge pick him, unless . . .?

 

Blue snarls again, but it's not enough to force the thought from his mind: Pidge chose him because he's their only replaceable paladin. He stops piloting, frozen with fear and sorrow, and Blue jerks them upwards, narrowly missing a swarm of fighters.

 

Just as the green lion soars out of the prison, an ion cannon that's been priming fires at it. Lance curses, grabs Blue's controls, and fucking _bolts_. He shoots straight through the Galra, tearing them to sparking metallic shreds, and flings himself in front of the green lion. " _Get away from them!"_ he roars.

 

The ion blast slams into Blue, and Lance sees blinding white. He can hear Pidge screaming faintly in his ear, but it's mostly a faint static, like white noise. When he finally opens his eyes, it's to see a massive wormhole appear in the empty space above the green lion, which is firing frantically at the Galra hoard while Pidge screams his name. The castle drifts in, literally guns blazing, and the black lion roars out. It swings through the Galra armada, wings flared and fanned, and scoops Lance's lion up by the scruff of its neck.

 

" _What the hell were you thinking –_ " The voice in his ear is Keith’s (he thinks he hears Shiro’s calmer tones overlapping), but Lance can't focus. Everything is fuzzy, sliding in and out.

 

"M'jus'gon' go t'sleep now, 'kay?" he almost giggles, aware he's slurring his speech and not caring. He slumps forward against Blue's control panel and lets everything white out again.

 *~*~*~*~*

Someone slaps him awake. He expects to find Keith or Hunk, but it's Pidge; they fling themselves on him, armor half-on, sobbing. Lance's big-brother-protection mode kicks in and he curls around them on reflex, pressing his face into shaggy brown hair and whispering softly.

 

"I brought you to help save Matt, not get yourself killed!" they shriek, voice high and shrill and far too loud. Lance winces, but he won't let go of Pidge. Not now.

 

"Did you get him?" he asks. The doors hiss open and Pidge walks in. Lance has to do a double take – the newcomer has Pidge's hair, Pidge's face (Pidge's glasses?) but he's taller, broader, changed now into what must be Coran's spares since they're both Altean and far too big.

 

"You're Lance, right? I’m Matt." Matt Holt holds out his hand, and Lance carefully pries his own out from the sobbing Pidge on his lap to shake it. "Thank you for saving me – and thank you for taking care of Pidge for me. You have a concussion, but nothing else is broken."

 

Pidge peels away from him and attaches to Matt, who just smiles and scoops them up. "You're welcome. It's been weird, but it's been my pleasure."

 

Watching Matt and Pidge brings a smile to Lance's face, even as his head is pounding. And when Keith and Hunk come bursting in (Hunk crushing him in another hug and Keith yelling for about sixty seconds flat before taking in a massive breath and worming his way into the hug with a " _Be more careful, asshole_ "), Lance just closes his eyes, soaks it in, and breathes.

 

It's worth it, to see them so happy.

 

####

 

** 3: Keith  **

 

Lance freezes, playing dead even as his face fills with alien soil, and watches the enormous alien sniff at him. It's twice the size of a draft horse, but it looks like an earth fox – aside from the nine fluffy tails, each a different color, fanning out behind it like a peacock. Also, this thing is the most vibrant purple Lance has ever seen.

 

It turns away from him with a huff, and Lance breathes a sigh of relief. He takes it back the second the alien lunges for Keith, who stares it down with bayard in hand and shield on arm. He jumps neatly out of the way (Lance envisions a snapping red cloth and Keith’s voice yelling " _Toro, Toro!_ " with a far better accent than the real thing is capable of) and swings his sword down. Right as it makes contact with the shiny fur (right before?), the alien vanishes, reappearing behind Keith and slamming its tails down on him. Lance's blood runs cold, but he forces himself to freeze. He's waiting for his moment.

 

Keith’s head strikes a tree root (well, Lance _thinks_ it's a tree root, but, well, you know. _Aliens_.) and he doesn't get up. Lance hopes Keith’s faking it too, that he'll make a covert signal when the alien turns away, but he hopes in vain. The alien scoops Keith up in its mouth, flopping limply, and right as Lance is about to charge it huffs out its nose and turns, heading deeper into the forest.

 

Lance stays still just long enough for the alien to lose interest (but not so long that he loses the trail) before stealing after it. He climbs a tree and leaps from branch to branch, following the alien, hoping it isn't a mother with hungry babies. What he gets might not be much better.

 

The alien leads him to a clearing, ringed by trees thousands of times taller than any skyscraper, with a village nestled neatly inside. The buildings are low, one-story things, built inside the roots. Some have slabs of stone over them but are otherwise open, like market stalls. In the center is a single pillar, with a cage on the top. Aliens are milling around the open center, and from what Lance can see, one of them is carrying some kind of stick.

 

The alien drops Keith in front of the stick-holder just as Lance activates the zoom feature on his helmet. The alien has lime green skin, humanoid facial features, and what looks like a bamboo staff with golden runes etched on it. The alien also has a long, thick mane of dark green hair hanging in a complicated twist, eyes that are completely solid disks the same color, and two lime green fox ears (well, they're the same ears as the alien fox, at least). The leader says something, gestures to the cage with the staff, and turns around, revealing a lime-green fox tail.

 

Keith ends up being dumped unceremoniously into the cage, bayard in the leader's hand, and Lance has had enough. He slides down the ridge, flips through the air, and plants his feet firmly on the ground. He notices some aliens frantically ushering smaller ones behind them, away, and he feels bad. Those are alien parents, with alien kids, and they think Lance is a villain. He makes a big show of sheathing his bayard, raising his hands. The aliens cower again, and so Lance does the only thing he can think of.

 

"I come in peace!" he shouts, and bows deeply at the waist. He straightens again, makes eye contact with the staff-wielding alien, and says, "My name is Lance McClain. I am the paladin of Voltron’s blue lion." He makes sure to speak slowly, enunciate clearly, show that he's willing to negotiate.

 

The staff-wielding alien speaks, stepping forward. "I am Dzurok, leader of these people. State your business."

 

"I apologize for the intrusion. I come for the paladin of Voltron’s red lion – Keith Kogane. He is in that cage. I ask for his freedom so that we may depart."

 

Dzurok laughs. "I am afraid we cannot comply. Ythry brought your friend here." The alien fox purrs (or the equivalent of a purr) and curls its tails around its paws. "She has judged both of you, and determined him to be a threat to our safety. You, however, are not. You may leave, but the Galra must fight for his freedom."

 

Lance's heart sinks. Even a giant alien fox thinks Keith is better than him. Lance doesn't blame Ythry; if he believes Keith is better than him, everyone else will too. But he looks up at Keith, slumped unconscious against the cage bars, and steels his nerves. He will not fail.

 

"Let me," he says. Dzurok raises an eyebrow.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"Let me fight for Keith’s freedom. He won't be getting up again for some time. If I win, we can both go free."

 

"And when you lose?" Dzurok arches an eyebrow, and Lance refuses to acknowledge that he said _when_ and not _if_.

 

"You can take me as well." And Lance knows this entire premise is stupid – he knows Keith’s the better fighter, he knows he should have stayed out of sight, he knows he should wait and call backup and not get involved but if he can save Keith on his own then he'll prove his worth to everyone else in the castle.

 

Dzurok raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “You are aware that you will be facing our best fighter in combat, correct? A fighter that has never been beaten, not in all of the many cycles we have been protecting ourselves? A fighter that has killed almost all of their competitors?”

 

“Yes,” Lance says. And he’s afraid, sure. He’s nowhere near the fighter Keith is, and at the end of the day, this is entirely about the fight. If he can’t defeat whoever the champion is, he’ll most likely be dead. More importantly, Keith will be too – and that is something Lance cannot allow. “I am aware. I will fight.”

 

Dzurok shrugs. “It is not my tail on the line, Blue Paladin. At the end of the day, I will still be here. You will not.”

 

“Don’t judge me before you see me in action, huh?” Lance is starting to get angry now, and he knows that’s the goal but his blood is still boiling. “Bring it on! I’m ready for anything – I’m a paladin of Voltron! I can handle anything!”

 

Dzurok smiles coldly; Ythry backs into the shadows of the trees as Lance approaches, steps heavy with determination. "Then you may make your way to the arena."

 

The arena is inside one of the massive trees lining the village. It's hollowed out, with rows and rows of stadium seating, and the entire village files in to watch. There’s a separate balcony-looking thing where Dzurok sits, and even though Lance’s enhancement visor isn’t on he can still see the almost-triumphant look on his face. Keith – now conscious enough to protest Lance's decision – is in a cage hanging from what Lance assumes must be the ceiling (although it's too high for him to see).  Ythry is sitting in the arena, head cocked to the side as she stares at him.

 

Lance really, _really_ doesn't want to fight Ythry, and from her calm manner she doesn't want to fight either. In the top of the stadium, Dzurok shouts for attention. "My people! Today we have Lance, paladin of the mighty Voltron!" Lance ignores the mocking disdain in Dzurok's voice and summons his bayard. The familiar weight of his blaster in his hands is comforting; it’s like a little piece of Blue, who always makes him feel strong and invincible.

 

"He will face our champion for his freedom, and for the freedom of his Galra companion!" The crowd boos and jeers; Keith wilts against the bars but continues screaming for Lance. "I give you – Tjiri!"

 

Ythry steps aside, revealing an alien a little taller than Keith. They're wearing a hooded black cloak; all Lance can see of them is black boots and the shining silver knife in each hand. When they pull the cloak off, Lance sees light blue skin, dark blue eyes, a long braid of dark blue hair. He sees blue fox ears, a long blue fox tail, and a soft expression – not one of a fighter.

 

Ythry shrinks before Lance, becoming smaller and smaller until she's about the size of a panther. She springs into the air and lands on top of Keith’s cage, which sways with the sudden movement. Keith clings to the bars, looking slightly seasick; Lance readies his bayard.

 

"Fight!" Dzurok calls, and Tjiri _moves_. Lance barely manages to dodge the flash of her first blade, but Tjiri swings the second knife around and carves a shallow slice along his left forearm. Lance gasps, whipping around to find Tjiri calmly standing still, as though she had never moved at all. The only evidence is the red on her knife – Lance's blood.

 

"Lance!" Keith yells, slamming his hand against the cage bars. Lance lifts his bayard and watches Tjiri, but she doesn't move.

 

"It is your move, paladin," she says softly.

 

“You aren’t going to keep attacking?” And Lance knows he sounds kind of stupid, but he’s dumbfounded. Tjiri smiles again, and it’s much less threatening than Dzurok’s.

 

“I have attacked, and you have attempted to dodge. It is your turn to attack me. If we are both constantly attacking, I cannot accurately assess your abilities. It would not be fair to either of us. I will still defend, of course, but the next attack is all yours.”

 

Lance is reminded almost of chess, playing his grandfather on the back porch in the sticky summer heat, slowly encroaching across the board one move at a time, one piece at a time until your opponent’s king tips over in defeat beneath your fingers. He can do this – he has to focus, he has to chip away at the defenses until Tjiri crumbles ad he can get Keith out of here.

 

Lance looks down his bayard, identifying areas he thinks will weaken her. Chest, stomach, leg – hell, he even goes so far as a head shot. The cut burns as he moves, but he ignores it, lifting his bayard.

 

_Inhale._

_Aim._

_Exhale._

_Fire._

 

Lance's finger flexes around the trigger, and even as the bolts blast toward Tjiri she stands motionless. Finally, she moves - her blades flash like lightning as she calmly deflects all four shots. Lance is dumbstruck. She smiles at him, calm and collected, and laughs softly. “Your marksmanship is incredible,” Tjiri tells him. Her voice is soft, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, but the compliment makes Lance blush despite the situation. “You are indeed a worthy adversary. I do not find many that give me such pause.”

 

Tjiri seems to be holding her own just fine, breathing evenly and apparently not having broken a sweat at all while Lance is desperately trying to ignore the way his arm burns and already fighting for each slightly painful lungful of air. But she seems to be enjoying the fight, and she flexes her fingers around her blades. “My turn, paladin.” One blade twirls between her fingers as she stalks casually across the arena, the other one hanging at her side. The twirling blade comes level with her shoulder, caught and held loosely by the tip between her index and middle fingers. She closes one eye, holding it next to her face, and flings it at him.

 

Lance bends over backwards dodging it, and when he pops back up Tjiri is already sprinting for him with her second knife. His bayard comes up on reflex, clanging against her in a flash of sparks as he narrowly blocks a chest wound. Tjiri pushes against him, but he feels like she’s holding back – clearly, she has great strength, and it would be extremely easy for her to knock him flat on his back. But she’s letting him gain a little ground, letting him push towards her before she easily forces him backwards.

 

“ _Lance, behind you!”_ Keith shrieks. Lance can’t turn his head, but there’s a shining silver ornament pinning Tjiri’s hair back, and he can see something spinning towards him.

 

The blade she threw – it’s coming back.

 

Lance’s arms are shaking, and his mind is whirling. If that knife hits him in the back, he’s done for, but he can’t picture continuing this much longer. Strangely, his mind ends up back home, where he would wrestle with his older brothers. They were faster and stronger than him, but Lance remembers winning quite frequently – and as the memory gets clearer, he suddenly realizes _exactly_ what he needs to do.

 

He digs his heels into the dirt floor and pushes as hard as he can, actually forcing Tjiri to take a step back. When she pushes back, Lance stops resisting, letting her knock him flat on his back just as the blade whizzes past where his back would have been. When he jumps back to his feet, Tjiri has leapt into the air to avoid the blade as it boomerangs back, and she’s completely focused on the knife, leaving her wide open as Lance aims his bayard.

 

_Inhale._

_Aim._

_Exhale._

_Fire._

 

The blast lands, and Tjiri drops like a sack of bricks. When she stands, her entire left shoulder is singed black, and one hand is pressed against it. She’s finally breathing heavily, and her grin is sharper now.

 

“That was a good shot, paladin. It has been long since a hit was landed on me.” Tjiri raises her knife, and as Lance lifts his bayard she throws it down, stabbing it into the dirt. The crowd falls silent as she turns to where Dzurok sits.

 

“I concede the match!” she calls, voice carrying clear and firm. “The paladin of Voltron has fought well. He has proved his mettle and his determination for victory. I believe he has earned his safe passage – and the passage of his companion, as well.”

 

Startled murmurs and gasps ripple through the crowd, but Dzurok silences them all when he stands. “This is unacceptable, Tjiri. You must continue the fight.”

 

“Just because I have never conceded before does not mean that I cannot. My job is to determine which competitors in this arena deserve their freedom, and I have done my job. This paladin is the first to land a hit on me in many cycles. He has done more than enough.”

 

“Be that as it may, his companion is a Galra! Surely such a menace cannot be allowed to roam free,” Dzurok argues.

 

“He is a paladin of Voltron.” Tjiri’s voice is steely and calm. “He was chosen by a lion. That is not so easily disregarded. And you forget, Dzurok, that our people were not always here. You forget that we were once a colony of the Galra – you forget that we are their descendants. It is not your ancestors that decide who you are. It is the choices you make, it is the people you meet, it is you. The paladins have earned their freedom. And if you will not give it, Ythry and I will help them take it.”

 

Lance is awestruck – this alien girl, who he’s just shot in the shoulder, is standing up to the leader of her people, defying him, for him and Keith, people she doesn’t even know. She’s putting her entire life on the line for them, and she doesn’t even seem to care. She picks up her knives, wincing as she jostles her shoulder, and smiles at him. Lance smiles back and walks up so that they’re shoulder to shoulder; one hand wraps loosely around his wrist.

 

Tjiri whistles, a long, high, clear note, and Keith’s cage sways as Ythry leaps off. She grows in midair, bigger and bigger, until she’s twice the size she was when they first encountered her, causing the stadium to shake as her paws touch the floor. Her massive nose presses against Tjiri’s forehead, and Tjiri whispers a few words in their native language. Then she turns to Lance and tugs on his arm, pulling him over. Tjiri presses her nose against his forehead too; it’s dry, but not uncomfortably so, and cool. “Ythry stands with me,” Tjiri tells him, “and I stand with you.”

 

“You will not leave this village!” Dzurok roars. “These prisoners must be kept to appease the Angry Ones and spare our village!”

 

“You cannot stop us,” Tjiri tells him. She flings her blade towards Dzurok, and even as he lifts his staff to block, she flicks her hand and it curves, slicing through whatever holds Keith’s cage up. It hurtles towards the ground, Keith screaming, and Lance’s heart _stops_.

 

Tjiri catches her blade and barks, “Ythry!” Ythry springs forward, slamming her tails down and shattering the cage. The debris bounces harmlessly off her back, and as Keith freefalls she catches him neatly in her mouth, turning to set him gently on her back before she snatches Lance up as well. Tjiri vaults up onto Ythry’s head and shouts another string of foreign words. Something comes hurtling from the stands and into her hand – Keith’s bayard. Ythry takes a running start, forcing Lance and Keith to grab onto her fur to ensure they don’t go flying off, and _leaps_ over the seated crowd.

 

“Where do I need to go?” she shouts.

 

“Our lions are that way!” Lance yells, pointing to where Red and Blue are hidden. Tjiri yanks on Ythry’s ear and executes an almost-perfect U-turn as they race away from the village. Projectile weaponry races towards them, and even as Lance is about to say something Keith’s shield is catching the arrows, and his sword is deflecting the spears, and Lance is flattening himself against Ythry’s fur as Keith covers them. anything that hits Ythry’s fur bounces off like it’s nothing, and Lance hopes she can’t feel him practically pulling her fur out as he clings for dear life.

*~*~*~*~*

Tjiri and Ythry ride with Lance in Blue, Ythry the size of a housecat and cradled in Tjiri’s arms. When they return to the control room and introduce the rest of the team, Ythry stands protectively in front of Tjiri, now the size of a fully-grown male lion. Tjiri gently pushes her aside when Lance introduces her; both she and Ythry bow their head to each of the paladins, Matt, and Coran politely.

 

“And this is Princess Allura of Altea,” Keith finishes. Tjiri’s eyes widen, and then she bows from the waist; Ythry sinks onto her two front paws.

 

“My Lady,” Tjiri murmurs. “It is a great honor. You have suffered much loss, and all have heard tales of your valor.” Allura seems shocked, but she smiles anyway.

 

“It’s perfectly alright, Tjiri. There’s no need to be so formal!” Tjiri stands, Ythry rising behind her. “I owe you my gratitude for your aid to these paladins. I can’t wait to work with you in the future!”

 

“I’d be really interested to learn about your abilities,” Pidge says, and as soon as Tjiri gives an affirmative smile they begin to bombard her with questions. It isn’t long before Matt and Hunk cluster around her as well. Lance slips away – or tries to, when Keith catches his hand.

 

“Lance.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I need to talk to you.”

 

They end up on the training deck, Keith fiddling with his fingers, eyes darting everywhere except Lance, who’s beginning to be a bit confused. Shouldn’t there be more talking happening here? Right as he’s about to turn away, Keith explodes, “ _I really fucking hate you right now what the shit was that?!_ ”

 

“Excuse me?” Lance can’t believe his ears. Keith’s face is ridiculously red, and he looks like he regrets what he just said but his fists are balled and his face is set.

 

“That fight! What the quiznak were you getting yourself into?”

 

“I saved you!”

 

“Tjiri saved me! Tjiri saved both of us! You got in a lucky shot because I warned you about the boomeranging blade!” Keith is right up in his face, and even though Lance is exhausted from fighting Tjiri and he still needs to bandage his arm he is still ready to _take Keith down_.

 

“I wasn’t the one in the cage! Tjiri agreed to help us because of my performance in that gladiator ring! You’re being a dick, Keith, what the quiznak?”

 

“You’re nowhere near the fighter I am!” Lance refuses to admit how much that stings, so he throws himself onto the offensive again.

 

“Well, no shit, Keith, thanks for reminding me! What’s your point – other than rubbing in how good you are, of course!”

 

“You could have died, Lance!”

 

“If you’d been in the arena, you could have too!”

 

“I would have had a better chance than you!”

 

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was _my_ fighting that earned Tjiri’s respect! _I_ was the one who won her over to our side!”

 

“I wouldn’t have needed her help! What if she’d been as hostile as Dzurok, huh? You would be _dead_ right now!”

 

“What do you even care, mullethead?!”

 

They’re so close, now, right up in each other’s faces, and Lance knows that Keith’s pushing himself up on his toes to be eye-to-eye but they are. Their foreheads are touching, their noses are bumping together when they shout, and this close Lance can feel the heat from Keith’s face. He doesn’t know if it’s just because Keith’s naturally warm or if his connection to the Red Lion, but his skin is always almost searing hot. His mullet is sticking to both their foreheads, matted with sweat but still soft, and Lance can see the faint dusting of freckles on his pale nose. He can see the silvery specks in his indigo eyes, and he can most definitely hear what Keith screams next.

 

“I fucking love you, you colossal quiznaking moron, what the quiznak do you think I care?!”

 

For the second time that day, Lance’s heart stops. Keith’s eyes widen in _I-cannot-believe-I-just-fucking-said-that_ shock, but unlike Lance (frozen in shock), he isn’t frozen. Even as Lance is processing that _Keith Kogane loves him too_ , the Red Paladin grabs the front of his jacket and pulls Lance down for a furiously passionate kiss. His lips are just as warm as the rest of him, slightly chapped, and their teeth clack together a little because it’s so rushed, but it’s the best damn kiss Lance has ever had. One of Keith’s hands has found its way into his hair, forcing his head down to make it easier to kiss him, and Lance’s arms settle around Keith’s waist, almost picking him up as he leans back, pulling Keith into the kiss with him.

 

When they pull away, they can hear Pidge and Matt catcalling, Hunk crying, and Shiro applauding from the observation room, but it does nothing to detract from the moment. If anything, it’s burned more brightly in his mind, almost as warm as Keith’s fingers when they lace with his as they leave.

 

####

 

** 4: Shiro  **

****

“PDA,” Pidge calls lazily, not even bothering to look up from their computer as Keith and Lance walk into the control room. Lance looks at Keith, who’s a solid two feet away from him, and then turns to Pidge.

 

“We’re not even touching, you gremlin,” Keith says, rolling his eyes, and laughing when Lance flings his arms around his neck and drapes his body across Keith, almost dragging the slighter boy to the floor with his weight.

 

“Ooohhhh, Red Paladin, ravish me!” he moans, fluttering his eyelashes and planting a messy, extravagant kiss on Keith’s cheek. Keith smiles, lightly gripping Lance’s forearm, before his smile turns into a devilish smirk and he judo-flips Lance flat onto his back.

 

“ _Get rekt_ ,” Pidge and Matt intone monotonously, and Lance is too shocked and breathless to respond for a moment. Then, he jumps to his feet and wheels on Keith.

 

“Betrayed! By the love of my life! In my own home! I cannot believe the nerve –”

 

“Actually, Lance, I believe this is _my_ home,” Allura deadpans from the control deck, and Keith bursts into laughter, so much so that he’s actually wiping tears out of his eyes.

 

“Allura one, Lance nil,” Pidge tells him, and even as Lance pouts (over-exaggerated), Keith gently kisses his cheek, and Lance grins as his arm settles around Keith’s shoulders.

 

“Well now it really is PDA,” Pidge says, even as they’re sitting on Matt’s lap with their feet kicked up on Hunk’s lap trying to run calculations. Lance rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Allura, who stands with Shiro and Tjiri discussing something in low tones. Ythry, prowling through the control room, pauses in front of them, rubbing her head against Lance’s thighs, and when he scratches around her ears, he’s rewarded with a soft purring noise. When Keith offers his hand, hesitantly, she sniffs it, looks at him, and then licks his hand before rubbing her nose against his stomach.

 

“Paladins!” Allura calls, and they all cluster around the control deck. “Tjiri has provided us with valuable information on the Galra’s next moves. If you would like to come forward?”

 

Tjiri’s shoulder is wrapped in white bandages (even though it’s been a while since their fight, she’s refused a healing pod), and she looks nervous to be in front of so many people, ears twitching and tail swishing. She makes eye contact with Lance, and he grins encouragingly, earning a small nervous smile in return. “My people – we are descendants of the Galra. They eradicated the original civilizations of our planet and created their own. Many of the local people were slaughtered, but a few survived and interbred. Galra look down on us because we are half-breeds – our blood is not pure. We are considered scum beneath their feet.”

 

She looks dejected and afraid, and Keith pulls away from Lance to put a hand on her shoulder.

 

“I’m half-Galra,” he tells her seriously. “I didn’t find out until recently, and it took a long time to come to terms with it. But it’s like you said – your ancestors don’t define you. You do.” Tjiri smiles, and then she presses her forehead against Keith’s. The gesture is incredibly intimate – if it were anyone else, Lance would be up in arms. But this head-touch is a sign of gratitude in Tjiri’s culture, and he understands, and even though there’s a twinge of jealousy in the back of his mind ( _What if Keith leaves you for Tjiri, what if he loves her instead, what if he was making fun of you –_ ) he ignores it as Keith steps away from a much more confident Tjiri and presses himself against Lance’s side again.

 

“We try our best to distance ourselves from the Galra, but it is not always the case. When we acquired prisoners who failed to beat me in combat, many time they were sent away to be slaves of the empire. It was a strained relationship, but the Galra were willing to leave our planet alone in exchange.”

 

“The Galra empire is a menace,” Allura says darkly. “They consistently take everything away from anyone they encounter.”

 

“On the bright side,” Tjiri says, “I do know the location of two of the prison camps where the Galra take those we send them. If you wished to make a difference – I know many have families that miss them dearly. Not to mention, many of my people were impressed into service before the deal was struck. It is, in fact, the reason the deal was struck.”

 

Ythry whines sadly from her spot at Lance’s feet, and he rubs the top of her head sympathetically. Tjiri turns to the holo-screens and types some coordinates; a small, rocky moon appears. It’s strangely familiar, and as Hunk’s face lights up Lance’s stomach twinges with the memory of a fired shot. “We destroyed that camp not too long ago!” Hunk tells Tjiri. “Where’s the other one?”

 

The second planet is unliberated, orbiting a binary star system; it’s close enough they they don’t have to wormhole but will still make it there swiftly. The paladins split up to get some rest while they travel; Tjiri and Ythry remain on the bridge with Allura and Coran.  

 

Keith and Lance walk back to their rooms, fingers tangled loosely together, and when they reach Keith’s room, Lance kisses his forehead and turns to leave. Something tugs on his hand, however; Keith hasn’t let go of his hand. He’s staring at the floor, face redder than his armor. “Keith?”

 

“Um . . . I’ve . . . I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he mumbles, and with his free hand he holds his Galra-forged knife. “It’s . . . it’s hard, y’know?”

 

“I know,” Lance tells him.

 

“So, um, will you stay with me?” His words are rushed and quiet, but Lance catches each and every single one. When Keith looks up for a reaction, Lance’s face is breaking into a stupidly large grin, and Keith blushes harder, rolls his eyes, and yanks them into his room.

 

The beds are small, and really only made to fit one person, but they do manage it in the end. Lance presses his back against the wall and lets Keith climb into his arms. They end up face-to-face as Lance wraps his arm around Keith, noses just barely brushing, breath warm and mingling against each other’s faces. Keith’s arm is draped across Lance’s hip, Lance’s arms are tightly around his wiry frame, and they’re comfortably warm beneath the blankets.

 

Keith stretches forward and rubs his nose gently against Lance’s, and Lance tilts his head in response to press their lips together. It’s nothing like their first kiss; this is soft and slow, mouths moving gently in the dark. It’s chaste and sweet and Lance is even more in love with Keith than he was before. Everything Keith does, it seems, only makes Lance fall more and more in love with him, and when they finally pull apart, he can see Keith’s eyes shining quietly in the dim lighting.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, and Lance’s heart swells.

 

“I love you too.”

*~*~*~*~*

They reach the planet easily enough, and they find shelter on one of its moons for long enough to plan their infiltration. They decide to split up, try and cover more ground, with Tjiri providing almost-perfect schematics entirely from memory. Matt decides that he wants to help (and after hearing about the conditions of his prison, Lance honestly can’t fault him for that), so it’s decided that he will ride with Pidge and that together, they’ll break into the prison’s central computer and try to track further Galra movements. Hunk and Keith – firepower, blasting through the outer hull and fending off fighter jets with the castle. Lance ends up with Shiro, breaking the cells open and making sure that the prisoners get safely to escape jets. Shiro’s hand can activate the Galra technology, so it’s up to Lance to keep him safe and let him work. They decide that it’ll be simpler to take fewer lions, and even though Lance is hesitant about leaving Blue, he can’t deny that he’s a little bit excited about riding in Black.

 

As they’re making their way to their lions, Keith pulls Lance aside right before he puts his helmet on and kisses his cheek, gently. “Good luck,” he whispers. Lance smiles and kisses his forehead in return.

 

“I’d wish you luck too, but we both know you don’t need it,” he jokes. Keith blushes again (Lance is noticing that Keith blushes really easily, especially around him – and maybe it’s because of his increased connection to Red, or maybe it’s because of Lance himself), punches him in the arm, and turns away. Lance catches the smile on his face and smiles to himself as he turns to Shiro, who beckons him into Black.

 

They land in the now-vacated Galra fighter jet hangar, and Lance can dimly hear Keith shouting curse words and Hunk groaning as they lure out a swarm of fighters. Shiro taps the side of his helmet, pulling up Tjiri’s schematic on his visor, and turns to Lance. “Let’s go.”

 

“Yes sir!” Lance calls, and Shiro’s face quirks into a confident smirk before they’re racing down the hallways. Lance’s bayard is firmly in his hands, and he’s never felt more alive. His blood is pounding, adrenaline is coursing through him, and it seems like even though he’s sprinting down the corridors with Shiro at his side, everyone else is moving in slow motion. Any Galra he sees are practically bogged down in molasses; they’re no match for his laser-precision.

 

They find the first cell, and Shiro slams his powered-up hand against the handprint scanner. It crackles and fries beneath him, and as the cell door slides open, he ducks inside. “Don’t be afraid! We’re the paladins of Voltron, and we’re here to set you free!”

 

Lance stays outside while Shiro saws through shackles, sniping sentries from a perch he secures crouching on the frame above the door. Shiro zig-zags across the hall, breaking each and every cell open, and by the time they’ve cleared all the cells they have a group of about twenty aliens of various races in prison rags huddling behind them. Lance smiles encouragingly at them, and when a small alien with three sets of arms and thin, wire-like antennae stumbles as they hurry towards the escape bay, Lance reaches down and catches him.

 

When they reach the hangar, there are Galra soldiers everywhere. And not just sentries, either – actual living, breathing, thinking soldiers. Shiro looks from Lance to the bay to the ragtag group of prisoners, and when his eyes meet Lance’s again, his mouth forms the shape of words Lance is far too familiar with for his taste.

 

_Distract them._

 

Lance wants to scream. He wants to throw something, he wants to cry, he wants to demand that Shiro be the distraction so he can see what it’s like to be target practice. But his eyes travel along Shiro’s prosthetic arm, hand glowing like a dying star, the determined expression on his face, the prominent scar splashed across the bridge of his nose, the tuft of hair shocked white at the hands of the Galra. He knows that he can’t say something like that to Shiro, their fearless leader, someone who’s suffered more in a year than the rest of them will in a lifetime (except for maybe Allura and Coran, he supposes). He can’t sound so selfish and spoiled. This is his role on the team – he has to suck in his pride (does he have any of that left?) and get this done.

 

_How?_ he mouths back. Shiro shrugs, hissing an almost-inaudible comment as a soldier strolls past.

 

_Improvise._

 

Lance is reminded of the scene from _The Lion King_ where Timon and Pumba are distracting the hyenas, and then, despite the situation, he can feel the grin breaking out over his face. He vaults over the jet they’re using for shelter, landing smack in the middle of several startled Galra, and shouts, “Luau!”

 

Five minutes later, every Galra in that room that he hasn’t already shot is pursuing him through the network of hallways that build up the base. Lance is cackling like a madman, Tjiri’s plans displayed on his visor and her voice in his ear narrating him through the labyrinth. Every so often, when he gets far enough ahead, he’ll hide behind a corner and pop off the first few Galra that he sees before he takes off again.

 

“ _Lance!_ ” Shiro calls in his ear, ragged and breathless. “ _The prisoners have all been safely sent off! I need you back at Black, now!_ ”

 

“ _Take the next right, and then after that, you will take two lefts and you will be reunited with the Black Paladin_ ,” Tjiri tells him. Lance fires off a few more shots before he pours on the speed, sliding into the hangar and landing in a tumbling heap at Shiro’s feet. He pulls Lance up, and just as Black opens her mouth to let them into the cockpit, the doors shatter open as something that looks like a tank rolls in. It’s only half the size of the Black Lion, but it’s heavily armed and massively fortified, and before Shiro can even say anything Lance is pushing his way in front.

 

“Get in Black and go!” he yells.

 

“Lance, there is no way you can face down an entire tank by yourself!” Shiro snaps.

 

Lance knows this. But he can see the control panel for the airlock – all the Galra are facing away from it, their guns trained on Shiro and Black, and if he fires they’ll assume he’s shooting for them and dodge. He’ll easily make the shot, and he’ll blow the tank out into space. There’s a large metal rung on the wall, and he knows he can grab that to anchor himself before he gets blown away too. Shiro will hover Black right outside, Lance will get swept up in her jaws, and he’ll end up back at the castle a hero.

 

At the very least, Keith will have to acknowledge his strategic abilities.

 

“Trust me! I have a plan!” Shiro still looks unsure, but Lance just pushes him towards the Black Lion, and he doesn’t argue. Shiro scrambles across the hangar, and Lance grins at the opposing army. “Well, fancy seeing you here! Worry not, the flight will be departing shortly, courtesy of Air Voltron! Buckle your seatbelts, and please hold for final boarding check!”

 

The second Shiro is in the cockpit he takes his shot. He fires three, just in case, and all three land exactly where he intends them to. The airlock practically explodes open, exactly as Black roars and Shiro applies the thrusters to boost them out of there. Lance flings himself at the metal loop and wraps himself around it like a pretzel. His helmet closes immediately at the lack of oxygen as screaming Galra go hurtling past him. Lance yells wildly, elated, and then there’s searing pain in his side.

 

He looks down to see a thick metal chain wrapped around his waist, with a big black hook digging into his side. It’s connected to the tank, a stray part blown about wildly in the chaos, and as the tank is ejected into space, Lance goes flying along with it. He’s vaguely aware that he’s screeching, and his visor is blurring as tears fill his eyes. His hands are clinging to the frozen metal – he can hear Shiro shouting through the comms, and he can hear a wild cacophony of voices, and then, like a knife through butter, one voice cuts cleanly above the rest.

 

“ _Lance!_ ” And Lance would know that voice anywhere, in any galaxy, in any universe, in any reality. That voice will always sound a little more like home to him than anything else, that voice will always drag him back to reality no matter how far into the stars he gets. Even as he’s swinging back and forth like a rag doll, even as he’s slamming against the side of the ship bruised and broken, even as he’s losing consciousness, he sees his vision fill with bright red. For a moment, he thinks it’s just blood dripping into his eyes from the cut on his forehead.

 

The last thing he remembers is swirls of fire, destroying everything around him like it’s a toddler with a wet paper bag. It’s beautiful and bright and deadly, and nothing stands a chance against it. They curl around Lance, licking at his legs, and what should definitely be searing heat is instead soft, like Keith’s hands last night running feather-light up and down his side.

 

Keith is screaming his name in his ear, but although the familiar lack of feeling that comes from unconsciousness is a softer call, it’s a stronger pull. Lance is reminded of being caught in riptides back home as he succumbs to the current and lets himself go under.

*~*~*~*~*

At this point, Lance has practically memorized the sound the healing pod makes when you’re inside it. Sometimes he hears it when he wakes up in the morning, and he’s convinced that he’s still in a pod and he’s hallucinating. Still, when the door dissolves, he takes a step out and stumbles forward. He’s expecting to crumple into a heap on the floor, but instead there’s soft, strong arms supporting him, and a low, gentle voice.

 

“Hello, Blue Paladin.” Tjiri’s voice is not the one he’d been expecting – hoping – to hear. When her face finally comes into focus, she’s smiling, and for a split second his hazy half-awake brain sees his mother, a trained ER nurse and the one woman he truly love with all his heart. The image dissolves when he blinks, and Tjiri replaces it, but the smile remains exactly the same.

 

“Tjiri,” he croaks, hating the hoarseness of his voice.

 

“The Red Paladin has been here nonstop,” she tells him, as though she can sense his unasked question. “You have been in the healing pods for approximately three Earth days and fifteen Earth hours. During that time, the Red Paladin has neither eaten nor showered nor slept. His health was deteriorating – your Black Paladin forced him to sleep and eat. He should be returning shortly. Worry not.”

 

“Keith’s been here the entire time?” Lance can’t believe his ears.

 

“The Yellow Paladin has also been here quite frequently. He has been attempting to take care of the Red Paladin, and the Black Paladin has also been here. The Green Paladin and the rescued prisoner have been in and out, and Her Highness has come in and out. Your team cares about you a great deal. I am unsurprised, but I will tell you anyway – they love you very much.”

 

“I am the best decoy they have,” Lance jokes. “If I’m not there to sacrifice myself for Voltron, they’ll never get anywhere!” His voice is bitter, like the straight black nightmare coffee Pidge drinks, and Tjiri looks concerned. But before she can say anything, someone practically tackles her to the ground.

 

Lance is still wincing and sore, but he manages to pull himself free long enough to see who it is. Keith looks like a train wreck; his hair is even more of a disaster than normal, his eyes are wide and bloodshot with thick, dark circles below them, and he looks beyond insane. But he’s clinging to Lance like a starfish, like a leech, like one of those fish that anchor themselves to sharks and ride out the crazy. He’s shaking like a leaf, even as Lance folds his arms around him and presses his nose into his mullet. His hair smells a little bit weird, probably because he’s been holed up in the healing pod chamber for days, but it’s still soft and it still smells like Keith and Lance is still irrevocably in love with him.

 

“I could have killed you,” Keith whispers. “I was so furious that I just gunned Red towards that ship, and I had no idea that you were attached, I’m so sorry Lance I never thought you would do something so _reckless_ –”

 

Lance cuts him off with a kiss.

 

For the first time, Keith’s tongue slides between his lips and into Lance’s mouth, and Lance is very quick to return the favor. His side still aches where the hook dug in, and he can feel himself getting light-headed the way he does when he’s overexerted himself after major strain. But Keith’s body is on top of him, Keith’s arms are around him, Keith’s tongue is in his mouth, and it seems like every single piece of them is perfectly intertwined. They fit together seamlessly, like they’ve been doing this all their life instead of a few short days. And even as Pidge and Hunk show up, Pidge taking a picture while once again accusing them of PDA and Hunk flinging himself into the pile of bodies on the floor and breaking the kiss apart, Keith smiles at Lance like he has the answers to the universe in his eyes.

 

Lance is _far_ more than content to let him stare.

 

####

 

** 5: Team Voltron **

 

"it was our pleasure, your lordship." Shiro bows to the leader of the planet they've just liberated, and the leader smiles, bowing back. Lance and the rest of the paladins lower their heads as a sign of respect, but Lance is glowing.

 

Lance is vibrating with happiness, because during the battle he and Keith ended up back to back, pressed together. Keith’s bayard had been knocked out of his hands, and practically without thinking Lance had snatched his knife from the holster at the small of his back (and he totally didn't maybe touch Keith’s ass because he could, even though it's a really nice ass and it belongs to his maybe-kinda-sorta boyfriend, he _didn't!_ ) and offered it to him.

 

Keith just stared, eyes wide, face afraid, but Lance had shouted, _it doesn't matter if you're part Galra, Keith, you're a paladin first and foremost so take the sword and fight!_ Keith had taken the knife, watching it glow and expand into a sword, and then he'd clapped Lance's shoulder and smiled and said _thanks_. Lance had grinned, cocky as ever, and they'd gone right back to wreaking havoc and kicking ass, a dynamic duo if ever one existed.

 

They meander back to the lions, Pidge babbling about technology with Hunk chattering away to them, stars in his eyes, and Keith smiling affectionately and rolling his eyes. It's easy to forget that Lance isn't necessary, that he's just a useless seventh wheel, when it gets like this. With Keith’s arm slung around his shoulders, burning through his suit straight to the heart of the matter, with Hunk bumping their shoulders and almost backhanding him as he gestures broadly to Pidge. In this little bubble of warmth and happiness and laughter and hope, Lance can pretend it's all okay. He can delude himself into being wanted as Keith kisses his cheek and teases Pidge and Hunk’s techno-babble softly in his ear.

 

But then, as always, the bubble breaks. There's an electrical crackling noise, a short cry from Allura, a pained, strangled shriek from Shiro – "Princess!" – and the unmistakable whirring of his arm and suddenly Lance is wide awake. He spins to see Allura crumpled on the ground, the leader of the planet pointing a staff at her neck, electricity snapping along its length. Native warriors – warriors Lance had just fought side-by-side with – surround them, weapons cocked and aimed, and they've entangled Shiro in a weighted net so that his arm is practically useless.

 

"Thank you, paladins," the leader laughs, "for you have saved our planet! Once we hand the paladins, the princess, and the lions of Voltron over to the Galra empire, Zarkon will never touch our planet again!"

 

"Moron!" Lance thinks it, but it's Keith who spits it out, yanking off his helmet and pulling out his bayard. "You honestly think that Zarkon is going to leave your planet alone just because you give him what he wants?" Gold begins to seep into his eyes, like ink spilled into water, and when he flushes angrily it's purple on his cheeks, not red.

 

"Keith –" Hunk begins.

 

"Zarkon is the destroyer of worlds!" Keith pushes Hunk's arm aside, stalking forward only to be stopped by a wall of weaponry. "He will suck the life out of every single planet he comes across, and he has an even better way of doing so now! All your quintessence will be his, your people will die, and the entire universe will share the entire fate because you took their only protection in an attempt to save your own quiznaking skin!" When he snarls, his teeth have sharpened to fangs; when he blinks, his eyes are solid gold. When he pushes his hair out of his face, any visible skin is purple.

 

"We have your leaders," the alien scoffs. "You may be strong, Galra, but what can you do with only a child, a mechanic, and a pretty face? Do you really think you stand a chance against the might of our planet?"

 

Keith hesitates, probably stung by the Galra comment, but Lance is frozen. He doesn't know how to react: he jokes about being the most beautiful, sure, but the way the leader had spoken, that's all there is to him. And he isn't wrong, of course, but to think that his teammates have heard that makes him almost nauseous. He sees Hunk glancing between him and Keith worriedly and immediately schools his features into a smirk. He has to play this off, has to push it down, has to _save his team_ –

 

"I’m truly flattered, your lordship!" Lance laughs, casually strolling forward and patting Keith’s arm gently. "I assume you meant me by that pretty face comment, right? I know I’m fabulous, it's true!"

 

"Silence, paladin," the leader snaps. Lance pushes through the soldiers easily, flashing flirtatious grins and casual winks to slip by, appearing as nonthreatening as he can. Keith tries to follow him, but the warriors push back, encircling the remaining three paladins more closely as Lance approaches Shiro and Allura.

 

"How on Rikir did you _ever_ become a paladin?" the leader sneers. The glass burrows deeper into Lance's heart but he ignores it, keeps approaching, remembers everything he was ever taught about how to reel in other people when he was desperately trying to make himself attractive enough to other people to gain somebody, _anybody_ as his friend.

 

_Shoulders back, eyes wide, loose limbs, bright smile, relaxed posture. Gesture with the arms, let them think you're on their side. Hands open, walk slowly, head tipped at just the right angle . . ._

 

"It really was a clever plan, you know. Fake a Galra attack, lure us here, get us all worn out and tired so we won't resist. I gotta give you props, y’know? Cause it’s evil and all, but it’s also kinda genius!”

 

The leader has the nerve to look flattered. Lance slides right up close, tilts his head to the side just slightly so, and gives his most flattering smile.

 

“Of course, I’m still gonna have to kick your ass for threatening my team.”

 

“You do not scare me,” the leader laughs. “Your team carries you. You are nothing without them behind you. And we both know they are much better off without you.”

 

Lance wants to be crushed when his team doesn’t respond. They do nothing to refute the accusations this leader lays on him. He wants to curl into a ball and never speak again, he wants to be sad. But he isn’t. Instead, he is furious.

 

“Ex _cuse me_?!”

 

The leader’s face is blank with surprise at Lance’s scandalized tone.

 

“ _How the fuck dare you say those things about my team_?”

 

“Am I incorrect?” The planet’s leader is calm, if shocked. “Was anything I said false?”

 

“Of course not!” Lance snaps. “Of course my team would be better off without me – of course they don’t need me there! But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to prove my worth to them! I have to make sure that they survive, that they’re successful, because they matter more than I ever will! I have to keep them safe, and I will, come hell or high water. So you can bring your armies, you can bring your weaponry, you can bring the _whole goddamn Galra empire but I’ll be damned if I let you hurt my friends!!!_ ”

 

Lance doesn’t see the expressions of his teammates. His blood rushes in his ears, drowning out any words that anyone might have said. His bayard is in his hands and he presses the muzzle against the leader’s chest, and he flings it upwards and smacks the leader upside the head. “ _Come at me, motherfuckers!_ ” he roars. “ _I’ll take all of you! I don’t care how strong you think you are, I’ll never let you touch them!_ ”

 

“They don’t care about you at all!” the leader spits from the ground.

 

“That has nothing to do with how much I care about them.” Lance has to grind the words out. “They deserve love. They deserve respect and care and they deserve the _universe_. They deserve _so much better than me_. But I’ll give _every fucking drop_ of myself to make sure that they flourish, even if I have to give my life!”

 

“You will,” the leader promises, “because I will _never_ let them leave this planet alive.”

 

Lance lifts his bayard, activating the shield on his arm. “I don’t give a flying quiznak what you’ll allow. All that matter here is what I _won’t_ allow, and that’s any harm coming to my team.”

 

“Why would you sacrifice yourself for people who seem to care so little?”

 

“Because I don’t deserve to be cared about. But they do.”

 

Lance isn’t sure what happens next. He tears through the warriors, and when a new flood of Galra appear, he tears through them too. His bayard is so warm in his hands that he retracts it into his armor, settling for a spear he snatches from the ground to knock down warriors left and right. When swarms of robotic Galra fighters appear, Blue scoops him into the cockpit the second he even thinks about her, and the second he hears the telltale crackle of a comm line, he shuts them off. His helmet is abandoned on the floor, rolling around with Blue’s motion as he rips the enemy to shreds.

 

A sudden fleet of Galra tanks appears on the horizon, three ion canons primed and aimed at the castle ship. Keith, Hunk, and Pidge are still trying to free Shiro from the net, and Coran is helping Allura to her feet – there is no one to deflect the blasts. Blue snarls loudly as Lance kicks her sonic gun into high gear; two of the ion cannons are blown away with the force of the blast, and the third is blocked and destabilized with blasts of ice.

 

“Protect the others!” Lance shouts, landing Blue and flinging himself out of the cockpit with his bayard again. Blue crouches over the other paladins, Allura, and Coran, and Lance primes his gun. When he finally comes to a heavy-breathing halt, there are cuts and bruises everywhere. His arm is aching and swollen (he thinks he may have sprained, but it’s most likely broken), his left eye is bruised and puffy and he can barely see out of it, there’s blood in his mouth and all down his front, making his grip slick and almost impossible. But he’s wiped out every single Galra soldier there, and he’ll be damned if he lets anything happen to his team. He’s five hundred feet away from where Blue is still protecting them when a high whirring noise fills his already icy veins with dread. The tank’s iced-over ion cannon is priming again, and Lance knows he will never get to Blue in time to block the blast. So he makes a decision.

 

“Get them onto the castle!” he shouts to Blue. “Get them out of here!” Keith is screaming – they’re all screaming, what could they possibly be saying? – but Lance ignores them. “I love you!” he screams. “I love all of you, but Keith? I’ve always loved you. You’ve made me so happy, and I hope you know that! So kick Zarkon’s ass in my memory, alright?”

 

He sprints toward the Galra tank, as fast as he can on a badly bruised leg, and fires, and even though his swollen eye is throwing his aim off he manages to adjust the trajectory enough to keep hitting the tank and draw its fire. He stares into the glowing purple eye of the cannon, and he fires four shots in succession. Right as the cannon blast fires, Lance knows that his shots will fry the inner workings. He knows that this is the last shot he will fire.

 

The light itself is blindingly, unbearably bright. But when it hits him, he feels nothing at all.

 

####

 

_ one: lance _

 

Shiro carries Lance’s body back to the castle. The Blue Paladin is limp over his shoulder, and even as they get him into the healing pod, Shiro looks at his shoulder, his chest, his mechanical arm, all stained red with Lance’s blood, and knows that it’s most likely a lost cause.

 

The healing pod whirs softly, but it’s louder than it’s ever been before. Keith’s face is blank – his skin becomes a little less purple, his eyes a little less golden, his teeth a little less sharp. Shiro wants to tell him something, _anything_ , that might make him feel better, but he has no words. Hunk and Pidge stand together, Allura’s arm is draped over Coran’s shoulder as he helps her into a chair, and they’re all studying Lance’s deathly pale face behind the glass.

 

“Is he going to die?” Pidge asks, finally; they never did beat around the bush. All eyes turn to Allura and Coran, but they look just as lost as the paladins.

 

“Lance will come back,” Keith mutters. “Lance always comes back. He gives us a near-death scare, and then he hops into a healing pod and he comes out and makes a shitty pun and pretends to hit on Allura and everything is fine.”

 

“I’ve don’t know, Keith. I’ve never seen anyone survive the blast of an ion cannon,” Coran says, voice almost inaudible with awe and shock. “I didn’t even think it was possible.”

 

“It shouldn’t be,” Shiro says, finally. Everyone turns to him, and Keith looks ready to murder him but he knows that someone has to say it. “Keith, the probability is very high that Lance is going to die in that pod. That ion cannon blast is designed to take out entire ships – never mind a single human being. And Lance is tough, but I’m not confident that he’ll pull through! We have to accept the fact that he might not wake up, as hard as it is to swallow.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re giving up on him!” Keith yells, the gold and purple and sharpened teeth beginning to creep back onto his visage. “After all the stuff he said to that alien about us not caring about him, and you’re going to give up that easily?”

 

“I never said I had given up!” Shiro shouts, and Keith is fuming now. “I just think that you need to temper this belief you have that Lance is invulnerable, that he’s always going to just bounce back!”

 

“ _Maybe if he wasn’t constantly flinging himself into danger to prove his worth we wouldn’t be here right now!_ ” Keith shrieks back, full on Galra now, and Shiro is stunned into silence. Even Keith looks shocked at the words that have just come out of his mouth. The four remaining paladins look at each other guiltily, and even Allura and Coran look at the floor in something akin to shame.

 

“He’s done this before,” Pidge says, after minutes of uncomfortable silence that stretch seemingly into infinity.

 

“What?” Keith asks, voice thick; his skin and teeth have faded, but a little gold lingers around the edges of his irises, and his hair has a slightly more purple tinge.

 

“You said it yourself, Keith – he’s thrown himself into danger before,” Pidge repeats, voice flat but with a tinge of something like grief. “When we liberated that other prison planet, Lance flung himself in front of Hunk before he could get hit with that Galra blaster. When he and I snuck off to get Matt, he and Blue intercepted a blast from an ion cannon which would have killed me. He volunteered to fight for Keith’s freedom against Tjiri’s planet even though he thought he’d almost certainly die. He made sure Shiro was safely inside the Black Lion before he blew out that airlock and was swept out with the tank. He saved Coran from that bomb blast back on Arus – remember?”

 

“He’s always been like this.” Hunk finally speaks up from where he’s sitting at the foot of the only occupied healing pod. “I knew him for a while before the Garrison, y’know? He – he had this breakdown, once, in grade school. Started crying, shouting, ended up curled in a ball under a desk shaking. They had to take him to the hospital, eventually.”

 

“What happened?” Keith whispers.

 

“They diagnosed him with something – I’m not sure what exactly, they only ever told the family. But his mom told me a little bit about it, when I stopped by to see if he was all right. He gets these spirals, sometimes, of negative thought, and he overanalyzes everything that people do. He misinterprets – convinces himself that the littlest things are all his fault, that he’s done something to make people believe he isn’t worthy of their love anymore. But he still loves them, and so he runs himself ragged taking care of them. He tries to earn their love back.”

 

Keith’s face is slack with shock, and Shiro doesn’t even think he’s noticed the hot tears pouring down his face. Allura’s hands are pressed over her mouth in horror, and Pidge has pulled in on themselves even more than usual, curled in a ball on the floor.

 

“That’s why he said those things,” is all they can think to say. Slowly, six pairs of eyes turn towards the healing pod, studying the peaceful, placid expression on Lance’s pale face and the almost-smile curve of his lips. “When he was throwing himself at that leader. He thinks the only thing he’s good for is being cannon fodder.”

 

“Well, we’ll just have to prove him wrong when he wakes up, now won’t we,” Shiro says. Keith looks at him, eyes dead and quiet, but Shiro sees the glimmer of hope lingering there and sets his face in grim determination. Keith stands, pressing his palm against the healing pod, and turns to Shiro with an even fiercer determination written in his features.

 

“Damn straight we will.”

*~*~*~*~*

_everything is white. lance feels like he’s weightless, like he’s floating, like he’s drifting through a clear sea. it’s a warm summer day and he’s in the ocean back home, spread-eagled on his back, soaking in the warm sunshine. someone is calling him; he lifts his head to see his family on their boat, a large, old-fashioned sailboat, and it’s slowly drifting further and further out to sea. his mother is beckoning him from the upper deck, and lance can feel the current pulling him out to sea towards the boat, and he’s content to just let it happen. he’s more than content to drift away into the sun-soaked sea, never quite reaching the boat but almost there, almost there . . ._

_someone is calling his name. it must be his mother, he thinks, and he turns to go but suddenly his attention is drawn to the shore. there’s a figure there, faint and almost out of sight, but he sees a splash of red and hears the voice more clearly, and something comes rushing back to him: a blue ship shaped like a lion, a castle, a woman with long white hair, a young man with a red jacket, pale skin, and the worst haircut lance has ever seen._

_“lance, lance!” he’s calling. “lance, lance, come back to us! please!”_

_“keith . . .” lance murmurs, mouth thick and heavy like he’s talking around cotton. suddenly, his limbs are like lead, and he’s starting to sink. he looks to his family for help, but the boat has vanished, no more than a speck on the horizon, disappearing into the setting sun. and part of lance is tempted to follow the light, but keith’s voice is echoing in his ears, calling him towards the shore. when he tries to move his arms and legs, they’ve turned to cold, heavy stone, and he’s forgotten how to swim._

 

_he sinks through the cold, dark water, rushing faster and faster, with keith’s voice echoing loudly in his ears: lance! lance, can you hear me? you have to wake up, please, please!_

*~*~*~*~*

The swish of the healing pod is far more familiar than Lance wants it to be, even as he steps out of the pod and into Keith’s arms. Keith doesn’t say anything, just holds him for a moment, and Lance is too sleepy and weak to protest – not that he wants to. Keith’s face is planted firmly in his hair, and Lance _thinks_ he might be talking but everything is a blur. Keith swings him into his arms – he’s surprisingly strong, for someone so short and wiry – and Lance nestles his head between Keith’s shoulder and neck before it all fades away again.

 

He remembers what happens next in hazy patches, all blurry, half-formed human shapes, splashes of primary colors, and concerned voices that might be speaking actual words (he isn’t thinking clearly enough to tell). The only thing he remembers vividly are Keith’s arms, wrapped around him, cradling him like he’s the most important thing in the universe, and Keith’s neck, warm and flush against his almost too-cool skin, and Keith’s breath against his face, and Keith’s chest against his back as he races through the castle.

 

Lance slides into unconsciousness again, still curled against Keith, but he remembers sliding into the bed, bloodshot indigo eyes with thick dark circles and heavy bags leaning over him as chapped lips press against his clammy forehead. Lance thinks he giggles, Lance thinks he attempts to respond, Lance thinks he’s in love with this pretty-eyed stranger.

 

Lance thinks he’s falling unconscious again, and then he is.

*~*~*~*~*

When Lance wakes up, he and Keith are curled like cats beneath the blankets on Keith’s bed. His back is against Keith’s chest, and their legs are wildly tangled together. One of Keith’s arms is under him, the other is across him, and Keith’s grip is the tightest thing Lance has ever felt. His face is pressed into the back of Lance’s neck, and when Lance moves even slightly, Keith stirs, rubbing his nose against Lance’s skin.

 

“Keith?” Lance murmurs, and suddenly Keith is wide awake behind him.

 

“Lance?” There’s something frantic in his voice. “Oh, my God, turn around, babe, please, I –”

 

“Keith, I don’t think I can,” Lance laughs.

 

“Did something go wrong with the healing pod?” Lance has never heard Keith sound this worried.

 

“Keith –”

 

“I knew Coran was acting sketchy, but this means Shiro was right, I hate it when that happens!”

 

“Keith?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I can’t get up because you’re practically on top of me,” Lance huffs, sides aching even as he laughs, and Keith shuffles off of him awkwardly as he slowly, painfully flops onto his back. Keith is leaning over him, eyes wide, and then he’s pressing their foreheads together.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, breathless and soft.

 

“Hey,” Lance whispers back, tilting his head up just enough to bump their noses together. The smile on Keith’s face might be the softest thing Lance has ever seen on his face, and then Keith closes his eyes.

 

His nose moves across Lance’s face, rubbing over his forehead, trailing down the side and across the skin just under his left eye, right along the bony ridge of his eye socket, across the bridge of his nose and along his right eye before nuzzling down his cheek. The tips of their noses rub together, and then Keith’s nose is moving across his lips, tracing around their outline before slowly sliding down his face. Keith’s nose traces along his jawbone, up to the point of his chin, before dropping sharply down along his neck, ending up right in the dip between his collarbones, where Keith places the feather-lightest of kisses.

 

“Keith?”

 

“I love you,” Keith mumbles against his skin. “You’re so wonderful, you know that? I would never, _never_ want to be up here without you. Even if I had everyone else in the castle with me, I would never want to be anywhere other than wherever you are. I’d follow you to the ends of the universe, Lance. You know that, right?”

 

Lance is speechless, even as Keith lifts his head and kisses him. Almost instantly, Keith’s tongue is sliding across his lips, gently scraping across the ridge of his bottom teeth and around to the ridges of his top teeth. He’s never this touchy, and Lance never thought he’d see the day where he of all people had _Keith Kogane_ on top of him, kissing him slow and sweet like they have all the time in the world. But there’s something burning behind it, something in the way Keith clings to Lance like a frightened child with a security blanket, something in the way he pushes his tongue, the way he tilts his head, that screams urgency. It almost feels like Keith’s trying to make up for lost time.

 

When Lance finally gets out of bed, he’s still shaky and weak and sore, and Keith is instantly at his side. He slings Lance’s left arm over his shoulders and winds his right arm tightly around Lance’s waist, and together they make their way to the bridge. Allura and Coran are discussing a star chart in calm tones, but when Keith and Lance make their way in, Allura immediately comes over to speak with them.

 

“How are you feeling, Lance?”

 

“Very sore and very tired,” Lance confesses. Allura nods knowingly.

 

“You took a lot of damage in that fight,” she tells him gently. “You may be out of the healing pod, but you’re still recovering. You won’t be fully mobile for quite some time, I’m afraid.”

 

“I’m just happy to be alive, Princess.” Lance is somewhat shocked at the raw honesty in his voice, but Allura just smiles. Then the unthinkable happens: Allura leans forward and hugs him. She smells sweet, and when she pulls away from him, she kisses his forehead. It’s completely platonic and chaste, but Lance can feel his face flushing because it reminds him of his older sister. He vividly recalls sitting on his kitchen counter, sniffling, with two scraped-up knees and a busted elbow, while his sister kisses his forehead and tells him it will all be okay. These injuries are considerably worse, but the sisterly love shining in Allura’s eyes and smile as she returns to the bridge is exactly the same.

 

They run into Shiro and Matt, on their way back from the training deck and aggressively elbowing each other, all smiles and laughs and soft eyes when the other isn’t looking. They’re practically glowing, and Lance laughs softly before wincing and leaning a little more heavily on Keith.

  
“Lance!” Shiro calls, jogging ahead of Matt to catch up with the other two paladins. “Hey, it’s great to see you awake! Are you feeling any better?”

 

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been a lot worse. It’s better than being dead, I guess.”

 

Shiro smiles, but his eyes are serious. “Lance. I want you to know – I’m sorry that I always used you as the distraction. You were always so fast and agile, and I was confident in your ability to evade enemy fire. I’m sorry that fell so heavily on your shoulders.”

 

Lance never thought he’d hear the day that Takashi Shirogane apologized to _him_ , but here he is and here Shiro is and the day has come. “It’s okay,” is the only thing he can think to say, but Shiro is already shaking his head.

 

“It’s not,” he says, “and we’re going to fix it. But you need to focus on getting better, alright? We can talk about this when you’re well.” He looks like he wants to say more, but then Matt is sprinting down the hallway, shouting something about the last one to the pool being a rotten egg, and Shiro’s face morphs into a devilish, almost childish smirk, and he pats Lance on the shoulder before he bolts off after Matt.

 

Pidge and Hunk are in the lounge area, Hunk carrying a tray of something Lance can’t see. But he can sure as hell smell it, and the second he does, he nearly starts crying – Hunk has somehow figured out how to make their favorite dessert from back home. They always joked it was the lovechild of a _tres leches_ cake and a pineapple-upside down cake, and as soon as Hunk turns around, grinning, Lance can see the sweet, spongy, syrupy goodness oozing all over the plates.

 

Hunk sets the tray down to hug Lance, and Lance just melts into the familiar embrace. Hunk has always smelled like bottled sunshine (at least to Lance) and he’s Lance’s constant reminder of home up here in the vast empty vacuum of space. He helps Keith settle Lance on the sofa, and digs into the cake, serving the biggest piece to Lance. The second the fork slides between his lips, he’s moaning in delight as the familiar flavors explode across his tongue and coat his mouth. Keith smiles, and when Hunk returns to the kitchen to grab drinks, Keith kisses Lance’s hair and heads off to assist.

 

Lance is so focused on his cake that he almost doesn’t notice the pressure on his lap until he looks down to see Pidge. They settle carefully, making sure that they aren’t hurting Lance in any way, pulling their laptop over and typing away at a long string of code. “Pidge?”

 

“You’re more comfortable than the stupid space couch,” they mutter. Lance grins to himself behind their back, because the couch he’s sitting on is one of the softest, most comfortable things he’s ever encountered. Pidge is just looking for an excuse to sit with him, and he isn’t complaining. The weight is comforting; it reminds him of watching TV with his siblings back home, where at least one of them would be in his lap and the rest would be draped around him and the couch and the floor at all times.

 

By the time Lance has finished his cake, Pidge has finished whatever it is they’re typing. He peers over their shoulder, and what does he see but an image of Earth. His chin rests on their shoulder, and without even saying a word, Pidge zooms in to reveal a stunning view of the beach where Lance and Hunk grew up. “Pidge, what – how –”

 

“I hacked a satellite,” they say, far too smug as the push their glasses up their nose. (Why do they still wear glasses they don’t need? Is it aesthetic? Lance doesn’t even have an inkling of a clue.) “I know you miss Earth more than the rest of us, so I thought that I would show it to you.”

 

They spend a solid forty-five minutes exploring Earth through the satellite feed. Somewhere along the way, Lance starts crying, but by then Hunk and Keith have returned and sandwiched him and Pidge between them. Hunk’s arm is draped across the back of the space couch, Keith’s head is carefully on his left shoulder, and Pidge is leaning back against his chest. Matt and Shiro end up leaning over the back of the couch, making dry sarcastic comments and telling stale jokes that have everyone’s sides aching, not just Lance’s.

 

They fall asleep like that, and when Allura and Coran discover them, they have the foresight to take a picture. Lance is in the middle, and Keith’s head is on his shoulder, the rest of him curled up like a cat. Lance’s head is resting atop Keith’s, and Hunk’s head (lolling against the back of the couch) is tipped atop Pidge’s (on Lance’s right shoulder). Matt is slung across the sofa, torso visible while his legs dangle down the back. The only one awake is Shiro, who’s smiling like a proud dad even as he holds the black marker with which he’s drawn all over Matt’s face.

 

(Later, while a shrieking Matt chases Shiro through the hallways and the other three paladins sleep peacefully in a heap on the couch, Allura sends a copy of the picture to Lance. She shows him how to manipulate a holo-screen to hang next to his bed and display the picture so that Lance can see it whenever he needs reminding of just how loved he is.

 

He rarely sees it, however, and he rarely needs it – because he wakes up for the next three months in Keith’s room, in Keith’s bed, with sleepy, adorably clingy and cuddly Keith draped across him, and any negative thoughts are evaporated by the warmth of his body heat.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> next major project: a kimpossible!vld au, coming soon ;)


End file.
